Curiosity Kills the Cat
by Xeen Cyr
Summary: something in the last episode of season 1 caught everybody's attention: here's my take on Olivia's SUV near miss on her way to New York and her meeting with Ms Nina S.
1. Chapter 1

**FRINGE**

**Curiosity Kills the Cat**

_No copyright inFRiNGEment intended._

_Note: something in the last episode of season 1 caught everybody's attention: here's my take on Olivia's SUV near miss on her way to New York and her meeting with Ms Nina S._

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PROLOGUE

Walter's eyes snapped open. It took him a few seconds to evaluate his current situation. The hotel room, the faint light of his bedside lamp, Peter sleeping in the other room. He was not in Sainte Claire's, at least, he could assume that much.

He sat on the bed, peered through the dim light and gave a worried look at the crumpled covers and sheets on the couch across his own bed. He sighed, got up, scurried silently to his son's side.

He watched him for a while struggle against invisible enemies, standing in his plaid robe, his hands restless on his lap, unable to decide what to do, his feet shuffling absently on the rug. After an agonizing few minutes, he glided to the couch and crouched down next to Peter, sat on the coffee table, waiting helplessly for his agitation to recede. His eyes intent and placid at the same time, his head slightly tilted, he mulled over checking his radial pulse.

Deep inside, Walter felt prepared after all these months spent in the close companionship of his only son but he could not help but flinch at the violent reactions that Peter was exhibiting in his sleep. Finally when he bucked with what sounded to his ears like an anguished moan, Walter patted his left hand gently and attempted to shush him back to sleep.

The light touch that Walter intended to be soothing acted like a thunderbolt and Peter awoke with a start.

"Aaah!" Walter yelped springing to his feet.

"Aaaah!" Peter's voice echoed. "Walter, what on earth are you doing?"

Walter shifted his weight from one foot to the other and plastered on his face his best impersonation of a cocker spaniel. "Nothing."

"And you're doing nothing at…" Peter checked his watch, "4:23 in the morning and right next to me. Are you trying to frighten me to death? What is it that could possibly explain that you feel the need to talk to me now? You hungry?"

Walter winced and went back to his usual Cheshire cat face. "No, of course I'm not, it's the middle of the night!" he protested, half offended half sulking. "But…"

"Hey! … but? Be careful Walter, I'm not in the mood for one of your idiotic demand."

Walter barely hesitated. "Are you all right son?"

Peter discarded his obvious concern with a shrug. "I guess I was until you managed to wake me up!" Peter swung his legs to the floor and made his way to the bathroom in his boxer shorts with Walter in his wake. Turning around, "Do you mind?" he barked. His dishevelled hair and the dark circles under his eyes were proof enough that he was short of a few hours of sleep but Walter was not ready to let go.

"You were in pain, son, I just wanted to help."

Peter stopped dead in tracks. "Not again, please, not the same lame excuse again. Can't you give me the benefit of one night, one single night of well earned rest Walter? What am I to you, another of your experiments?" He shook his head. "Don't answer. I don't want to know. Now if you don't mind I'd like to take a l…"

"I understand," Walter stepped back and gestured him to go ahead. Peter slammed the door behind him. Walter moved ahead and stood perfectly still two inches away from the door.

When Peter fanned the door open, he jumped startled by the close proximity of his father. "Don't you do that, step away, step away from the door Walter. What is it with you? Is it the tai food you had for dinner?"

Walter made a face, outraged at the uncanny possibility that his own son was so unable to read him. "You were having a bad dream," he prompted dryly. "Maybe a mild sedative would help you to sleep," he proposed.

"A bad dream? Come on, you can do better than that," Peter quipped, making a dash for the couch. "Go back to bed Walter. I'm not going to tuck you in. And don't even think of trying to dose me against my will with your homemade cocktails."

"I was only trying to help."

"Really?" Peter lay down on the couch and grabbed the blankets only succeeding in removing them from his feet. "You mean you just woke me up to give you the opportunity to feed me with sleeping pills? This is getting old Walter, go back to bed, I'm not kidding."

"You said some things in your sleep."

"Were you spying on me?"

Walter chose to ignore his sly comment. "It was about agent Dunham. Don't you remember son?"

"No I don't, now will you go back to…" Peter froze. It was all coming back. He felt the impact of the unexpected backlash and felt sick in his stomach. She was in her SUV, driving too fast. She was distracted. He could hear the clash of the torn metal when her car rammed into the grey sedan. Was she hurt? Was it only a dream? It felt so real.

"Ah! I knew it! You do remember," Walter exulted.

"I was… I was dreaming that she was in an accident," he said carefully. He sat on the couch, wrapped himself up in the sheet and paused. "She was in her car…"

"What was she wearing?"

"I remember a raincoat, you know the one that looks like a special agent cliché?"

Walter nodded, his two forefingers joined before his mouth.

"With her usual signature pantsuit," he continued, the shadow of a smile graced his lips, "and a baby blue shirt."

"Nothing out of the ordinary?"

"She's driving too fast. It's not her natural MO. She's not in Boston."

"Do you recognize the scenery?"

"I think this is… yes she's in New York. What would she do in New York?" he asked.

Walter assessed it was only rhetorical and nodded again.

"Why would she be in New York?" Peter insisted. "She never told me she was going to New York…"

"Calm down son, it's only a dream, merely a product of your imagination."

Peter got his cell from the coffee table and speed dialled her. "No it's not. She's in New York and she went alone. What if it was a trap?"

"It was a bad dream Peter, you must know that…"

"It's not a dream Walter, you of all people, you should believe me. I'm positive she's been hurt."

Walter furrowed his brow and leaned towards his son. Was he delusional? Maybe if he could give him some…

"You said I was agitated and that you tried to calm me down. Is it what you were trying to do? Answer me!"

"You're not thinking straight Peter, let me get you someth…"

"Enough with your obsession for self medication, I'm perfectly all right, I'm telling you she was in an accident and now she's not answering her phone. I got to call Broyles."

"First I want you to come to the lab and let me examine you," Walter stopped him. "Then you should call agent Francis. I noticed that agent Dunham and agent Francis are very close."

Peter stared at his father and shook his head. "All right, I'll take us to the lab, but no tank, right?"

"Right."

"Get ready Walter, I'll check with the hospitals in the meantime."

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**FRINGE**

**Curiosity Kills the Cat**

_No copyright inFRiNGEment intended._

_Note: Peter had a bad dream. He can't shake the idea that Olivia was in a car accident. I know it's been a while but real lif blah blah blah.  
_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**PART 2**

To a newcomer, with his three-day stubble and perpetual scowl, Peter was the impersonation of cool, even at the wee hours. But it didn't take a rocket scientist to see that something was off. Not the time, not the clothes nor the fact that a man in his thirties and his father were working at a campus classified lab in the middle of the night. No. It was this mixed feeling of anxiety, apprehension and alarm.

Peter slammed the metallic file cabinet close and kicked the bottom drawer. He winced from the pain and turned his attention back to the desk. He rummaged through Olivia's files and drawers and finally dropped in her chair, gritting his teeth, sporting a massive vertical line on his forehead. He had to admit he was confused.

They talked the day before. They had some cheap coffee from the vending machine in the hall and he was his usual self, flirty and nosy. She, on the contrary, was elusive and blushing, glancing over the rim of her cup at him and she was smiling for god's sake! But she was not going anywhere. She would have told him. He was one hundred percent positive she wouldn't hide something from him, --unless it was some top notch for your eyes only FBI thing.

Even so.

It was unlike her to be deceptive and moreover to disappear without advanced notice. Clasping the edge of the desk with both hands, he looked around in a last attempt to find the tiniest bit of clue that had eluded him before.

Nothing.

He jumped from the chair which almost got knocked over, and half a dozen strides later, he was back to harassing Walter.

"Walter, you're wasting valuable time. We must call Francis. We must call him now, make sure she's okay. What if she was kidnapped again?"

"You're not making any sense Peter. How do you imagine that a simple phone call would achieve such a gigantic task?"

Peter opened his mouth and for the first time ever, was unable to utter a single word. He shoved his hands deep inside his pockets instead and looked puzzled.

Walter's mouth quivered.

"You said she was in an accident… am I right?" He walked right ahead, forcing Peter to move over. "So, if you don't mind, get out of my way, and let me do my job. I'm almost done here."

He waved at his son dismissively, gliding silently to the other side of the lab, his white medical gloves up in the air, swinging his concentration in full mode. This nightmare was a godsend, the perfect opportunity to perform every medical test known to mankind on Peter, to make sure he was all right, that entropy hadn't win the game, --for now. He couldn't help but grinning madly inside his head at the view of the perfect results.

At least, he could only wish that the grin stayed in his head.

Peter watched him attend another buzzing machine. He felt his arms and mind going helplessly limp, his fears roving in his chest in an endless loop. When he went back from his reverie, Walter was nowhere to be seen. He groaned and jogged to the lab door, checked the lobby, listening to the possible echo of his father footsteps.

"Peter? I do hope you're not planning to leave me here without breakfast?" Walter protested in his back. He was zipping his fly up and seemed obviously concerned by his son erratic behaviour and equally oblivious of the result of his eavesdropping on him. Peter refrained himself from going directly to the throat and closed the door gently behind him with a sigh.

"I thought…" he began.

"That I was gone?" yelped his father. "Nonsense! Where would I go at this time of day? I don't even have the car key…" He frowned, hesitating; then a bright smile lighted up his face. "Son, I think I just remembered where I left my Norton."

"Your old bike? You're kidding right?"

"Of course not. I'm quite sure I know. It's…"

"Walter, I promise to take you wherever you want to but please, tell me. Is there something wrong with me?"

"To be perfectly honest…"

"Is it a brain tumour?"

"A brain tumour? Peter! Don't be so dramatic! Your results are perfect. Too perfect if you must know. Perhaps a cure of Woodford Reserve 1838 Sweet Mash Kentucky Bourbon and some cigars would do the trick."

"Cigars?"

"Cuban of course," Walter smiled.

"So you're telling me that you admit that I had a bad dream and that we lost several hours? I'm calling Francis!" Peter's relief, despite his concern of agent Dunham, was obvious. He composed her colleague number and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Absolutely son, knock yourself out!" said Walter who twirled away.

Peter bit his lip, listening intently to the distant tone. One more and it'll be his voice mail. "This is Charlie Francis' phone," said a sleepy female voice.

"Mrs Francis?"

"Peter?"

"… 'Livia? Where are you? You were in an accident?"

"An accident?" her voice was gentle and surprised. "No. Absolutely not. Peter? Why are you up? We're near…" she spoke softly to someone, "… we're about 60 miles southwest of Boston."

"Wait. Where?"

"In Westport. Traffic crawls along Route 6. There's a 20 worker crew raking asphalt and traffic is really slow. I guess they work at night to keep the nuisance to a minimum."

"So you're okay?"

"Yes, just following a lead. Dead end. Why, something wrong?"

"No, nothing. Talk to you soon."

"Okay, see you then."

With that she hung up. He watched his phone going silent and dark.

"Breakfast?" chirped Walter startling him again.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

TBC

_your input is always appreciated: let me know what you think ;)_


	3. Chapter 3

**FRINGE**

**Curiosity Kills the Cat**

_No copyright inFRiNGEment intended._

_Note: Peter had a bad dream. He can't shake the idea that Olivia was in a car accident. This is the last part, --for now. I guess that in _A New Day in the Old Town _Peter will get all the answers he needs_. Please R&R!!

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**PART 2**

Peter glanced through the window and spotted an old woman walking her tiny old dog on the opposite side of the street. The dog was wearing a plaid coat and looking grim and disenchanted. Who wouldn't, Peter thought, being seen in such attire in the gloomy morning light. The woman trampled her way to the corner with the tiny old dog in her wake and disappeared from his view. He sighed and looked back at his father.

Despite his quiet demeanour, Peter felt restless. Okay, he had had a bad dream. Olivia confirmed he shouldn't be worried anytime soon. Bottom line, he had been making a fool of himself. Too much coffee, not enough vegetables and a sprinkle of sleep deprivation, that's what it does to you. With last night to add to the list, he had lost count.

Fortunately, Walter has been his only witness, so far. Hopefully, Olivia would never know why he called Charlie Francis on his cell at the wee hours, -- that is unless Walter feels in the mood to gloat about it to Astrid or someone else or even better to advertise it on the planet Fringe next time they were to visit the FBI office downtown. What to expect from a crazy scientist whose world suddenly became his oyster again? Or maybe he was the one who was crazy. Maybe they were both crazy, like father like son. Maybe, she would simply forget he called. Not in this lifetime, he chuckled to himself.

For now he was pretending to have a gargantuan breakfast to celebrate, for lack of a better word, his being fit for duty and he was happy to please Walter. At this precise moment, his father was busy with soaking his food. He was pouring a ridiculous amount of maple syrup on his third course of so-called _homemade_ pancakes with an evil grin. Peter winced and diverted his eyes from his father's plate and away from his own untouched bacon, congealed scrambled eggs, cold hash browns, and gritty oatmeal porridge. He was feeling nauseous and now that the morning came, his fears from last night sounded completely irrational.

But his guts insisted on telling him that something was very wrong. He was suspecting that Walter had taken advantage of his dismay when submitting him to all those tests for hours. He was distracted or he would never have accepted it. And there was something else. Something about Olivia and that grey sedan. He took a sip of cold coffee and waited patiently for Walter to feel satiated enough to go back to the lab.

A half hour later, he pushed the lab door, feeling like he was 300 years old. He needed a shower and a million hours of dreamless sleep… and to be away from Walter.

"Hey," Astrid greeted them. "You there already? Isn't it a bit early even for you two?"

Peter shrugged and waved his hand with a _you don't want to know_ look on his face, turning his back to the dashing assistant while Walter rushed to her side. "Asteroid, I have something to tell you that comforts my theory," he volunteered with a conspiratorial smile, "but I promised Peter not to say anything."

"Really?" she smiled back. "And what is it?"

Walter leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

"Walter, what did you say?" she shook her head. It was going to be a long day.

Walter frowned and glanced in the approximate direction of his son. He slipped his coat and scarf off and gave them to Astrid. "No, no, no… I promised. But you must know that I was right!" He raised a triumphant finger under her nose that made her recoil.

"Okay." She took the clothes and watched him put on his lab coat.

He was nodding and muttering.

"Are you all right Walter?" she felt compelled to ask.

"Yes, I'm quite all right and you'll be glad to hear that Peter is, too. We performed a thorough analysis and I couldn't find anything wrong with him," he stated flatly.

Now, regardless of her dealing on a daily basis with Walter's peculiar idiosyncrasies, Astrid was beginning to be alarmed. "Really? And why would you do this in the middle of the night?"

"Obviously," his eyebrow rocketed, "because there's everything in this lab to run every test I needed to get to the root of the problem if there were any… except for a scanner. Maybe I… I should probably ask Olivia for one of those. Digital imagery, that's simply fantastic, you know. Perhaps it is too expensive, you…"

"The problem? Is Peter sick or something?" she cut him off. She felt rude but didn't flinch, bracing herself pre-emptively against any possible outburst.

"Of course not, nonsense!" he scurried away to his bench and picked a manila folder. "He was just… over reacting." Directly engulfed in his work, he suddenly went perfectly still and silent.

"Astrid, leave him be. He's gonna calm down eventually," Peter's voice in her back startled her. "I had a bad dream and Walter… Well, it's a long story. I think I'll have a nap in Olivia's office. Wake me up if anything goes wrong."

"Goes wrong?"

"Yup. I have this feeling, you know. Just wake me up, okay?"

"Will do," she smiled.

Peter disappeared in the back of the lab.

Astrid went back to making a pot of fresh coffee and fix a plate of cinnamon rolls for Walter. Well it was just another day of work at the lab, she smiled, picking up Walter's favourite mug near Mr Coffee. She'd have to ask Olivia about this new riddle. But she had to admit that Peter sleeping on Olivia's couch, that was certainly a first.

She had almost forgotten about this surprising start when Olivia popped in, fresh as a daisy, almost two hours later.

"Hey, what's up? Do you need me today Walter?" The blonde agent asked in her casual manner. She didn't expect any answer but she was rewarded by the interrogating gaze of two pairs of eyes.

"Good morning agent Dunham," Walter exclaimed. He winced and looked around. "Peter's asleep in your office. He barely slept last night, I'd rather prefer that you don't wake him up, --if you can," he whispered in a somewhat mysterious voice.

"Is there something wrong?"

"No, be assured that I took every precaution. My son is perfectly fine." Olivia looked puzzled but she didn't make any attempt at worming more information out of him. He made a face as if he did expect she would. "I promised not to tell anyone," he finally added in a stronger voice.

"Okay… Well, I thought I'd come to the lab to talk about his phone call last night but that can wait. I'm on my way then. I won't be back today. You can reach my on my cell in case you need me," she told Astrid.

"You're leaving already?" Walter whined. "At least have a donut… a cinnamon roll that is today."

"No thanks Walter, I have to go to New York. I have a meeting with Nina Sharp."

"You're going to New York? Can I come with you? I dreamt of the perfect bagel some nights ago and I… maybe not." Walter's face melted and he returned to his vials and test tubes. "Have a nice trip agent Dunham," he said without a look back.

"Something new?" Astrid chimed in.

"Not sure yet, I'll let you know. I should be back to Boston late in the afternoon should you need me here. Tell Peter I say hi." With that, she was gone and Walter immediately forgot she was even here.

Olivia slammed the door on her way out.

Peter opened his eyes and listened intently. Nothing but the quiet familiar white noise of the lab. He closed his eyes, folding his arms on his chest and went back to sleep.


End file.
